How Did You Die?
by Gandalf3213
Summary: A thousand years from the time of Harry Potter, all magic has left the world, died out over the centuries. A boy stumbles upon Dumbledore's tomb and discovers a world more than anything he ever imagined.
1. The White Tomb

**I don't own Harry Potter. I soo wish I did.**

A boy was walking through the field. He didn't know it, but a thousand years ago he would have been called a "muggle." Everyone who was alive now was a muggle.

The field was overgrown with tangled thorns and wild flowers. To his left was a vast forest that had taken over most of the grounds. To his right was a small mountain, on top of which stood ruins of a great castle.

The boy often walked this way. He was from a small town near the edge of the forest, one that had been called thousands of years ago, although he didn't know it, Hogsmead. The boy knew that if he kept walking he'd come to a deep black lake. Some of the villagers said that a monster thousands of years old lived at the bottom of this lake. The boy didn't believe them.

There were a lot of stories about this place. The older folk spoke of ghosts that haunted the ruins and of creatures neither human nor horse that lived in the forest. They talked of a time, long ago far out of anyone's memory, a time where the place had been a school of the most unusual sort. A time of beauty and power and sorcery. The boy loved these tales, but he didn't believe them.

The boy tripped over a root and was sent sprawling into the undergrowth. He looked up at found himself at the base of a platform. Long ago it had been a monument or statue, maybe, but now the sides were chipping away. Curious, the boy looked at the top of it, gasping when he realized what it was.

A tomb. A tomb crafted entirely of white stone. On the top were etched letters, weather-beaten by the centuries but still readable: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. There were more words under those two, but the boy couldn't make them out. He ran his hand over the cool surface.

How did you die?

The thought sprang to his mind, unbidden, unwanted, but now that it was there he pursued it, looking eagerly over the stone for a cause of death.

Suddenly, a wave of pain swept through him and he sank to his knees, his hands still touching the tomb. Memories that weren't his own rushed at him.

_It was long ago. He was sitting in behind a desk, headmaster of a school of magic. He was a great wizard, battling with dragons and consulting with goblins. He was more powerful than any king alive now._

_There was a boy, a boy with dark hair and shifty eyes. He went through the school, was wall liked, an amazing wizard. The headmaster didn't like him, thought he would be evil. When this boy, now a man, asked for a post at the school, the headmaster turned him down._

The boy crouching in the field gasped at these memories, coming so vivid from somewhere. Another wave passed through him and he was dragged once more into that time.

_There was evil now. Bad men running over the country with very large people and things that didn't seem to have faces. They were being opposed, but the evil forces were winning. The headmaster was a good man; he tried to fight the evil with a small band of people. These people were being killed._

_Then something happened. A tipping point. The evil man, the boy with dark hair and red eyes, went to a house. He killed two people, but not a third. A baby earned a scar that night. A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt._

The memories were easier to take now. His mind was accepting them as if they were his own.

_This boy was important. He grew up in a house without magic, but was taken away by a man much larger than ordinary size. The boy went to the school where the headmaster taught. He made friends._

Two people showed clearly in the boy's mind. A red-head, tall and gangly with many freckles and a girl with bushy brown hair and a knowing smile.

_These friends would be with him until they died. They were important too._

_The group got into trouble at school. They faced the evil man, now not standing upright like a man. They defeated him. Then the evil man did something, took the scar-boy out of the school. Took his blood. The evil man had a body again, and followers. _

_The group that had opposed the evil man before was starting again. The boy with the scar and his friends fought against the evil man and his followers at the school where the headmaster taught._

The thoughts were getting jumbled in the boys mind. Weird pictures flashed by...locket...snake...cup...book...what did it mean?

_The headmaster and the boy with the scar weren't at the school when it was attacked. When they got back, a boy was waiting for them. With the boy was more men, one whom the headmaster trusted. The man he trusted took out a stick and killed him._

So that's how you died? A man you knew killed you during a battle?

The memories weren't finished. These ones were different, as if the boy was seeing them through a foggy window.

_The boy with the scar and his two friends continued to fight. They were looking for...something...They found it. A large battle ensued in which a lot of people died. The boy with the scar killed the evil man, but while he was doing this, the red-head died. _

_A government that had been shattered by the events was rebuilt. The boy with the scar was head of this government. He had a wife, a red-headed girl whom he loved deeply._

_A golden-age of wizards, lasting for five hundred years, followed. Wizards lived in peace with all creatures of magic. The great battle was forgotten, the boy with the scar passing out of memory._

_And wizards died off. The school was forgotten, the old ways were forgotten. Wizards began fighting amongst themselves. There were a thousand left...a hundred...ten...one..._

The boy started crying. A few last pictures came back to him.

_The boy with the scar was placing flowers at the grave of the red-head boy. The red-head girl was placing flowers at the grave of the boy with the scar. The last wizard, the very last one left in the world, coming to the white tomb to place flowers before all magic died out._

The boy stood up, shaking. He knew now how the headmaster called Dumbledore had died. How magic itself had died. The boy sat on top of the white tomb until the sun set, thinking of the headmaster, and the evil man, and the boy with the scar. They were all connected, somehow.

The boy walked away from the tomb, his black hair glinting in the sunlight that bounced off the glasses that covered his brilliant green eyes. Behind him, though he couldn't see it, were flowers placed by the tomb centuries ago by the last wizard. They started blooming again.

**Weird, I know, but review anyway. Please?**


	2. Starting the Adventure

**Thought I'd update before the next book comes out (only 12 hours guys!) so here you go.**

James walked quickly away from the tomb and the ruins. What he had seen disturbed him greatly….and yet.

And yet he found it _right_. Like he was meant to see those things, to know what had happened. He felt it somewhere deep in his stomach, a powerful feeling that felt both like flying and falling at the same time. It was terrifying.

James knew that he looked exactly like that boy, the one that had the scar. He seemed important, somehow. Without thinking, James ran his hand through his hair. Habit.

His feet led him automatically to his favorite place. He pushed open his best friend's door, not bothering to ring the bell. "Hey, Charlie!"

Charlie yelled, "hey," from the kitchen. James ran there, nearly tripping over toys in the process. James had one of the biggest families he knew, one of seven. He quickly saluted the green and red flag that stood in the doorway before launching himself at his friend.

"Oy!" Charlie screamed as the potato knife he was using went flying, along with the potato. "Geeze, James!" he exclaimed, "I do rather like to breathe!"

James smiled and let go. "You'll never believe this…" he began. Charlie smiled, rolling his eyes. "I bet I won't."

Another boy came in, his tall dark frame betraying the fact that he wasn't in the family. "Lo, Charlie." He said, leaning against the counter. "Twins home today?"

Charlie half-frowned, "They've been gone since morning. I'd check the main square. Most attention." The boy nodded, grabbed an apple out of the bowl, and left.

James ran his hand through his hair again, trying to stay still as Charlie continued to peel the potatoes. "Charlie!"

"What?"

"I have to tell you something!" James stole the knife and looked his friend square in the face. "Something really important!"

Charlie sighed and took the knife back, but didn't peel any more potatoes. "Okay, tell me."

The story came out, about the tomb and the old man, the man with the evil eyes, the boy with a scar, the red head boy and girl with bushy hair. The battle, the dying out of all wizards. The flowers.

When he finished, James looked expectantly at Charlie. Charlie leaned on his elbows, biting his lip. "James…" he started, and James could tell by his voice that he didn't believe him.

"I want to believe you, really, and I know that we look like those boys you saw, but think about it…" he started listing, using his fingers to count.

"One, these wizards — our ancestor — would have had to survive, lets see, in a thousand years there's been World War III and World War IV. Also, what are the chances that they didn't participate in the lunar migration, or even the other ones, Europa, Saturn, that new moon, what's-her-name, Titan? I just mean," Charlie said, seeing James' face, "That there's a lot that had to happen. And then look how close we are to those ruins, that tomb. It's just, what are the odds, James?"

James choose to ignore this. He looked at Charlie pleadingly. "Will you at least _look_?' he asked, smiling. Charlie rolled his eyes but nodded, adding, "If you saw that girl, maybe that's Molly. You know, the one with the bushy hair."

James nodded. "Sure." Then, as an afterthought, "Maybe we should bring Jenny too."

Charlie blanched, "My sister? Why?"

Too late James realized he had forgotten to add the part about the red-haired girl. "She was in those pictures too." He didn't add that she had married the boy with the scar. James also wouldn't mind having Jenny around anyway. She was kind of cute.

"Anyway, she's not here. Went to the city with mum on the last train. They shouldn't be back until tomorrow." Charlie explained, then said, "We cans till get Molly, though."

The boys went through the small town, approaching a smaller house. Molly was outside her nose, predictably, buried in a book. "Oy, Molly!" Charlie called. James elbowed him. "Calm down," he muttered, though he secretly found Charlie's new infatuation with Molly very funny. Charlie's ears turned red but otherwise ignored James. Molly looked up.

James immediately explained, once again, the events that had happened earlier. Molly listened quietly until the very end, when words bubbled out. "That' so cool, and we look just like those people? You're sure, James? I mean, I know that used to be a school and a lot of weird things went on there…"

"Wait," Charlie interrupted, "Those ruins used to be a school?"

Molly nodded, "Yeah, and there were a lot of people there, all wizards. This town used to be really magical too. I read that it used to be called Hogsmead, but I don't know the name of the school."

"Do you want to go?" James asked, his eyebrows raising us above his glasses. Before Molly could answer, a voice behind them said, "I would."

James turned around to see a tall, rather dirty boy wearing old clothes and old sneakers. Dark hair framed a face that was incredibly handsome, though reminiscent of a dog. "Hello, Sirius."

Sirius said, slower this time, "Can I go with you?"

James thought about it. He only wanted people he had seen in the memories to come with him, but something was nagging him at the back of his mind, like he remembered Sirius. He did know him. He had run away from home, and had come to their village two years ago. Once when he and Charlie had been cornered in a fight by three older boys, Sirius had joined their side. He was a good fighter. On the off chance that something was still living in those ruins, it'd be good to have him.

"Sure." James said, "Did you hear what I said?" He didn't know how long Sirius had been standing there, he seemed to slip in and out without notice. Sirius nodded.

Charlie was still talking to Molly, convincing her to come. His argument finally got to her and she sighed, carefully marking her place in the book before getting up. "This is all a waste of time," she muttered, "I don't even know why I listen to you two."

Charlie smiled. "I knew you liked me, Molly." She swatted him and he ducked out of the way easily.

James didn't participate in the struggle. His heart was pounding, he felt sweat roll down his face. Something told him that he was getting close to something. Something that had been buried for years. And may, just maybe, he'd be the one to find it.

**Review! Although, I guess I forgive you if you're reading the seventh book. **


	3. Who is Harry Potter?

**I own it not.**

James led the way up to the tomb, picking a carefull way through the overgrown woods. He didn't miss Molly's shudder, or the fact that her hand seemed to mysteriously find Charlie's. Even Sirius seemed uneasy in the dark woods. There were a lot of weird things happening in this forest. It had expanded, taken over the outskirts of their small town, circling around an old, abandoned, un-named shack. Most of the older villagers refused to go into the forest, even when wood was scarce.

James understood why. The forest gave the impression that it was older than anyone remembered, that it hid more secrets than anything else, and that it knew more than it let on. From far away a wolf howled dully. Leaves crunched as a herd of...something...ran by, just out of sight.

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief when the trees finally died away. All of them lingered on the edge of the forest, possible remembering, as James was, the tales that went with the ruins and the grounds that surrounded it. Snatches of ghosts and worse that flitted in and out of stories.

James led the way, Charlie on his right side, looking suddenly serious. Sirius was on his left, staying a little way away from the rest of the group but looking just as determined and curious. "Where did you see these things? Not near the lake, I hope?"

The vast black lake didn't need old wives tales to protect the secrets of its depths. Light only penetrated a few feet into the water, enough to see the steep drop off into nothingness. People swore they'd seen tentacles of a great monster writhing on the surface and _people_, slimy, greenish, half-people.

James shook his head. "No, it was the tomb. I tripped and fell on top of it."

Charlie looked at him strangely, "James, there isn't any tomb around here."

Molly, however, gasped at James' words. He looked at her, knowing that she was remembering something she'd read. "Yeah, there's a tomb. Just past here."

"There are records." Molly broke in, unable to contain herself any longer. "Of a burial here. And of a white tomb. Those are some of the very last things in the books of magic in the library."

Charlie looked at her scathingly, "Those are fairy tales, Molly, you shouldn't believe them."

"Why not?"

Sirius spoke for the first time, making all three of the others stop. "I mean," He said, noticing the silence, "If James really saw all this, something must have been controlling it. Is it really so hard to believe that magic once existed? Especially in a place like _this_." He gestured to the forest, whose branches were moving without wind, to the lake, which seemed like black glass, and to the ruins of the school, if Molly was right, standing on a steep hill overlooking it all.

There was a pause after Sirius spoke in which James said quickly. "We're here."

He recognized the bush, and brushed it away, revealing the glistening white tomb, miraculously clean after a thousand years of time and weather should have beaten it away. He could still see the words there, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.

"I came back, Professor."

James didn't know why he was addressing the stone this way, why he was addressing stone at all. It didn't feel like he had spoken at all, more like his mouth had opened of its own accord, drawing the unfamiliar words through it. "I came back, Professor Dumbledore. I brought Ron and Hermione with me. Sirius wanted to visit too."

Now James was sure that he hadn't been speaking. He didn't need Charlie's anxious look or Molly's squeak to remind him that he had no idea who Ron or Hermione were or why this Professor Dumbledore had wanted to see them.

James opened his mouth again, ready for more words to come out if there were any. There were, just one more sentence. "It's me, sir. Harry. Harry Potter."

The name felt so right and rang clearly throughout the grounds. Dirt and plants fell off the tomb, leaving it glistening. The four gaped at it, then at each other.

"Who's Harry Potter?" Charlie asked quietly. "What does it mean?"

All three boys stared at Molly, whose mouth was open in a small O of recognition. "Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord." She said simply.

"Which Dark Lord? What was his name? Who are Ron and Hermione? Who's Albus Dumbledore?" Sirius fired the questions at Molly without taking a breath. At the same time he was looking closer at the tomb and pointed out a line of writing etched so perfectly into the stone.

"Look here. How strange! It says, I think, 'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak'." He raised a dark eyebrow, frowning slightly. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Charlie rushed forward to examine the writing. "Maybe it's code." He guessed.

James appeared next to his friend. He traced his finger through the words. "Or a spell." He added, remembering that this was supposed to be a place of magic.

"And what's this?" Charlie gestured to the line of writing just beneath the name Dumbledore. "Headmaster of Hogwarts." He stuck out his tongue in a gesture of dislike. "What kind of name's Hogwarts?" Sirius and Molly laughed.

James, however, didn't think it was funny at all. He wrenched his gaze away from the beautiful stone and looked up at the ruins. "It was the name of the school."

He said it with so much confidence that he was sure that he was right. Once again the words had come by himself, as if he were just a puppet and someone else was saying the words for him.

James turned to his friends, suddenly not so sure he should have brought them along. "Listen, maybe you guys should go back. I think this is going to be dangerous."

"No way." Charlie said, looking both bewildered and firm. "If it's dangerous, two is better than one. Besides, I want a look at that school."

"It'll be fascinating." Molly said, still gazing at the same DUMBLEDORE.

Sirius merely met James' eyes, but he sensed that his longing to explore the ruins was as great as James' own.

He had known they'd insist on going with him. It was almost as if he'd done this before. "Fine. Let's start up. It's a long climb."

He let the others get a little ahead of him before James turned to the stone. "I'll be back Dumbledore. You were right, you were always right."

As the strange words left his mouth, he felt a feeling wash through him, one of confidence, patience, and (was this right?) a little amusement. The tomb was egging him on.

And James turned around and raced to catch up with his friends. He was going to find out the mystery surrounding the tomb, the school, and boy with the lightning-shaped scar.

**I'm sorry that this is so off with the seventh book, but bear with me here, I'm on to something.**

**And review. Please.**


	4. The School

**I don't own Harry. Sorry.**

"So, I'm Ron now?"

James and Charlie were at the very back of their small group. James nodded. "It was either you or Sirius. Funny how Sirius kept his own name." James tried to keep his voice light. Tried to forget that less than ten minutes ago he was talking to a tombstone about people he'd never even heard of. Tried to forget that history seemed to be repeating itself.

Charlie glanced sideways at James before changing the subject. "So, this Dark Lord, Voldy-whatever? You, or Harry, I guess, defeated him? Using _magic_?"

James shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." He looked up, saw a castle looming over him, and blinked. The castle was beautiful, huge, with towers at each end, looking majestic, graceful, and a little imposing. James blinked again and the image was gone, replaced with the crumbling ruins of reality.

"What? What was it?" Charlie seemed to know he'd seen something else. James shook his head. "It was nothing, really, just a trick of the light."

Charlie seemed unconvinced but let the matter drop. "You know, the twins used to come up here all the time. They used to play hide-and-seek in the ruins. They told me all sorts of stories, like how there were ghosts still living in the castle, or how they saw the lake monster." Charlie looked at the huge lake that stood between them and the castle and shuddered.

James was no longer looking at Charlie, or at the lake. To the right of the steep climb was a large, relatively flat area that had been long since overgrown with bushes and small trees. He headed towards it.

"James? Hey, James, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Charlie tried to grab James' sleeve, then ran after him.

Molly's high voice carried over the grounds. "Where are you going?" She sounded frightened. James didn't look back.

He stopped running only when he was well inside the huge, overgrown area. He breathed in deeply, smiling. James looked over at Charlie, pushing his glasses back up to keep them from falling off the bridge of his nose. "Do you feel it?"

Charlie looked terrified; he gazed around the place with wide eyes, then nodded. "It feels...exciting, wonderful."

James nodded encouragingly. "That's exactly how I feel." He turned to Molly and Sirius, who had arrived next to them. "What about you guys? DO you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Sirius asked grumpily, though he too was gazing around the place in admiration. Molly just shook her head, "I don't feel anything different. Am I supposed to?"

James took another deep breath. He felt like he was flying. Excitement like he'd never felt before washed through him. He was free here. He was wonderful and graceful.

Molly was gazing back up at the school. James forced himself to look away from the huge field ― for he now knew that it was, indeed, a field of some sort ― to look back at the ruins of the old school. Any progress they had made up the hill was destroyed now. They'd have to start again.

Sirius and Molly shook their heads and left, though Sirius was a little more hesitant. James glanced at Charlie and saw that he too was reluctant to leave this place, leave the extraordinary feelings that seemed to swirl around it.

The climb back up to the school was quiet for the most part. James still walked next to Charlie, but he was looking over the grounds and found that if he looked at them a certain way, he was able to tell what it had looked like a thousand years ago. Just outside the huge forest, James could swear he almost saw a house with smoke curling out of a chimney.

Charlie seemed to sense these things too, though Molly and Sirius both seemed oblivious. "Does this place seem...odd to you?"

James nodded just before Sirius let out a very dog-like yelp and pointed to a tree that was standing fifty yards to the right of the path they were taking. "That tree moved." Molly put a comforting hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. "I swear, it was like the whole trunk was moving, then the branches."

Charlie and James looked at each other, a shared though flying between them. They were right to bring Sirius, and they were close.

The path ended abruptly in front of the ruins. There was a small gap between two enourmous pieces of rubble. James glanced at Charlie, Molly, and Sirius. "Like I said before, this might be dangerous. If you want to..."

"Just shut up and go inside already." Said Charlie, rolling his eyes at Molly. Sirius let out another dog-like bark of laughter.

James bit his bottom lip. He was sure he had to go inside the school, for reasons he couldn't even explain to himself. He was also sure that something was waiting for him, whether evil or benign he didn't know. Glancing cautiously back at his friends (Charlie gave him an encouraging nod) he took one step inside, then another.

There was a floor. A dusty, dirty, cracked floor covered with pieces of brick and debris, but a floor nonetheless. The beginnings of a majestic sweeping staircase rose in front of them before being cut off by a gigantic boulder. Ornate doors were slightly open to their left, broken in places. It was bigger than James had seen it from the outside, and so beautiful, with the aching sense of familiarity. He glanced at his friends. Even Molly felt it this time and was standing with her mouth slightly open.

But it wasn't the doors or the staircase or the rooms that took James' interest when he first walked through the door. It was a person, semi-transparent and floating, that was coming towards the four of them where they stood huddled together in the entranceway, and a deep voice that seemed to echo around the deserted castle, "Harry Potter, we knew you'd return."

**Review? Pretty please?**


	5. Ghosts and Wands

**I own them not**

_"The wand chooses the wizard, Harry, it's not always clear why."_

Charlie yelped and jumped back, yanking Molly with him. James gasped and even Sirius uttered a small noise as the ghost got nearer to them. It was still smiling, and James saw that it was wearing clothes reminiscent of the fifteenth century. He gulped and stepped forward. "Er...hello. We didn't mean to...we didn't know..." he fumbled for words as the ghost clasped his hand in both his own.

"Hello Harry." The ghost said warmly, and James suddenly smiled in return. He turned to his friends, who had backed away to the great staircase. "It's okay, guys. I don't think it will hurt us."

The ghost looked offended. "Of course I won't. But surely you know...aren't you Harry Potter?"

Charlie snorted, James shook his head. "No, I'm James, this is Charlie, Molly, and Sirius." He cleared his throat, looking at the ghost, "And who are you?"

The ghost was suddenly distracted by his head flopping to one side. Molly screamed as his head hung, attached by only a small string. The ghost was pulling it back up as he said, "I am Sir Nicholas deMimsy Popington." He looked at the group, "Better known by the students of this school as Nearly Headless Nick, for obvious reasons."

James laughed and Charlie, Sirius, and Molly stepped forward to flank him on both sides. "Umm...Nick?" Charlie was still plainly scared of addressing a ghost. "Could you...could you tell us about this person, Harry Potter? Only James has been called that twice now. And who are Ron and Hermione?"

Nearly Headless Nick sighed a little sadly. "Before I start that story, I think you should see something." He floated off to the far side of the huge Hall. James ran to keep up. "Are there more of you?" he asked quickly. "More ghosts, I mean?"

Nick sighed again. "There used to be around fifty of us haunting this school. Now the numbers have dwindled. Only the House ghosts, Peeves, and young Myrtle remain."

"What are the House ghosts?" Sirius asked, keeping up with them quite easily.

"In a minute, we're nearly...here we are."

They had stopped in front of what appeared to be a marble statue, but as James approached it he realized it wasn't marble at all. From every angle there seemed to be more things, more people to look at, and it had colors. He counted at least seven people with flaming red hair like Charlie's, and in the front, standing flanked between a red-headed boy and a girl with bushy brown hair was the boy with the scar, the boy who must be Harry Potter.

James gasped. He was a replica of the boy of the statue, as Charlie was one of the boy with red hair and Molly of the girl with bushy brown hair. Sirius had circled the statue twice before finding a tall man with loose strings of hair and a handsome face. "Must be you, mate." Charlie muttered to him.

There were other people on the statue who looked like people James knew. The red-headed twins, for instance, were mirror images of Charlie's older twin brothers, as was a smaller red-head girl. The statue also showed a large man, bigger by far than any human, tiny elf creatures, and a half-human horse.

"These are the people who fought with Harry in the battle that took place right here at Hogwarts." Nick floated closer to the statue, looking at a girl with beautiful face and long, silver hair. "But you better sit down, I will start at the beginning.

Sirius leaned against the wall, Charlie and Molly sat on the edge of the amazing statue, staring up at it, James was too jumpy to sit down. Nick arranged his head to be sure it wouldn't fall off before starting the tale.

"Nearly a thousand years ago, magic was flourishing. A great headmaster taught at this school, Albus Dumbledore. But, as a good man once said, 'Not all wizards are good.'"

James had a sudden flash of a large man sitting in a vaguely familiar pub, continuing the sentence, "Some of them go bad. A while ago one of them went as bad as it gets, and his name was Vold-" he stopped.

James wrenched himself out of the memory to hear Nick continue. "Lord Voldemort was powerful, and many thought he would take over. One night he went to the house where the Potters lived. He killed the parents, but could not kill the baby Harry Potter. Voldemort was, not killed, but destroyed for a while, and Harry was left with a scar like a lightning bolt on his forehead."

"Ten years later, Harry came to Hogwarts. In six years he did many extraordinary things. He fought Voldemort and witnessed his return to power. He also made friends." He nodded to Charlie and Molly. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The three were nearly inseparable until they died."

"But one did die." James interjected. "I saw that Charlie ― I mean Ron ― died in that battle at Hogwarts."

Nearly Headless Nick sighed once again, "Yes. The Weasleys had two casualties that night. Ronald and one of those twins." He smiled, possibly remembering the pair of troublemakers as infamous as those who had preceded them by twenty years. "But it was Ronald's death that enabled Harry to go ahead with his task. It is said that he died that night, then came back to life."

Molly gasped, "Is that possible?"

Sirius answered for the ghost. "It's magic, Molly, anything's possible." He turned back to Nick, who was sitting staring at the statue, lost in thought. "What about this other guy, Sirius?"

"Sirius Black was a good friend of James Potter, Harry Potter's father. He was Harry's godfather and died saving him from a group called the Death Eaters, followers of Voldemort." Nearly Headless Nick didn't take his eyes off the statue, now showing a pair of boys, one with black skin and short hair, the other with blond hair and a very bruised face. "The two were great wizards, very skilled."

The mention of a skilled wizard prompted a question, this time from Molly, "And what about that headmaster, Dumbledore, Is he on this statue?" she looked up into the face of a girl with long blond hair and huge blue eyes. She wore radishes in her ears.

"He died a year before the battle." Nick straightened up, if it was possible for a ghost to do so. " To continue this tale, after Voldemort was defeated there was a half century of peace. The Ministry of Magic was rebuilt by Harry, Hermione, the remaining Weasleys, and friends who had survived the battle. Magic thrived again. This school was reopened and a new headmaster took over."

"So how did it all die?" Charlie's question was one that James had been burning to have answered since he'd stumbled onto the tomb. "All this stuff is so great, how did it all just disappear?"

"There was still evil left in the world. Another wizard rose to power, a descendant of the great Grindewald, and this time there was no Harry Potter to stop him. He wiped out most of the wizarding world. Those that had fled eventually died, their blood mixed and distorted." Nick wiped an invisible tear from his translucent face. "But you four, you might very well be descendants of Harry Potter himself."

The ghost crossed over to the statue and whispered something to it, words that James didn't catch. The next second a door opened at the base and Nick withdrew four wands from it. "These wands were offered back to the families of those who had fallen, but they were eventually given back to the school and placed within the statue. It is what has kept it alive and safe all these years."

He handed Charlie a reddish wand, "This was Ron Weasley's wand." He explained, and Charlie wrapped his fingers around it with reverence, his hand fitting it perfectly.

Nick next gave a long, almost white wand to Molly, "This was...well, it was either Fred or George Weasley's. It doesn't matter, as the wands were as identical as their owners." As Molly touched the wand it emitted gold sparks. "I think it likes you." Nick said warmly.

Sirius received a black wand that was shorter than either of the others. "It was Draco Malifoy's, but Harry used it too. I think it will work for you." Sirius took the wand hastily and examined it with a hungry expression.

James received his wand last. "This wand was sent back to Hogwarts the day Harry Potter died, with instructions to keep it safe. It is called the Elder Wand, or the Wand of Destiny. It is very powerful and very dangerous. Use it well."

And James had two last flashes of pictures before his hand wrapped around the Elder wand. One was of an old man with a crooked nose, piercing blue eyes and half-moon spectacles, the other of a cloak, and a note with long, spindly handwriting,

_Use it __Well_

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	6. The Common Room

**I dont' own them. Sorry.**

_Help will always be given to those who ask for it._

James leaned against the statue, glanced up into the face of a boy with a round face and friendly eyes, and looked back down at the wand. Without thinking, without even realizing he could do anything with this long piece of wood, he waved it and said one word. _Expelliarmus_ Charlie's wand flew out of his hand.

"Wow!" Molly was at his side at once, "James, how did you do that?"

James was looking at the wand with wonder. He was feeling the same thing he had felt when he walked onto that field. The same feeling as when he walked through the front doors. He felt like he belonged here. Like this was right. "I dunno Molly. I just…I just _did it._"

Nearly Headless Nick smiled. "I think you will find that many things come back to you when you are in a familiar place." He started to float off, towards an apparently solid wall. "Come with me. There is still much to learn."

The four ran to catch up with him. Nick kept walking straight into the wall and floated through it. James glanced back at his friends. Sirius shrugged, Charlie nodded encouragingly. James took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and walked into the wall.

An impact didn't come. When he opened his eyes he found himself in a long, dimly lit corridor. He turned in time to see Molly come through the wall, followed almost immediately by Charlie.

"Come!" Nick called from up ahead. "This is the only way to get to the upper levels." Again, the four glanced at each other, and again they ran to catch up with the ghost.

The walked for a brief moment in silence before James asked. "Nick? What is that place outside? It's kind of flat and…" he didn't go any further. Nick had turned around and was smiling at him.

"That, James, is a Quidditch Pitch."

Before the ghost could say anything else, another very strong memory came to him. A tall, broad boy was talking to him, holding up a red ball. "Quidditch is easy enough to understand. There are seven players, three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, and a seeker, that's you."

James jerked out of the memory and looked at Nick in surprise as he explained. "Both Harry and his father James were excellent Quidditch players. They were both seekers for the Gryffendor team."

Gryffendor. That word mean something important. Harry was about to ask what it meant when Charlie spoke up. "What about me? I felt something in that place too."

Nick smiled. "The Weasleys were also good Quidditch players. They had a seeker, two beaters, a keeper, and a chaser in their seven. Ron was a keeper."

Before Harry could forget, he asked his question. "What does Gryffendor mean?"

The corridor turned sharply and the group found themselves on a landing at least seven floors above the huge doors. At the end of the corridor was a single large portrait of a woman.

Nick floated towards it, answering James' question over his shoulder. "That will be explained fully by the Sorting Hat, James. But for now just know that it is the House that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius were all in."

From behind him, James could hear Molly whisper to Sirius, "What's a Sorting Hat?"

But know they were at the portrait, and somehow James knew exactly what it would say. "Password?" the woman asked, and Nick looked at James. "I don't know the password." He admitted, but it wasn't Harry, but Sirius who answered the portrait's question.

"Harry Potter." He said easily, and the portrait nodded and swung open on its hinges to reveal a large hole.

Nick was the first inside, followed closely by James, Charlie, and Sirius. "This is the Gryffendor Common Room." Nick explained, gesturing around the old room. It was cakes with a layer of dust, but Harry didn't see that room. In his mind, he was seeing the room of a thousand years ago. The room Harry, Ron, and Hermione had seen.

Molly turned to James in wonder. "Do you feel it?" she asked her voice low. "It seems like…I know it. I can almost remember!" She was excited, and the white wand at her side punctuated her words by emitting colorful sparks.

Sirius had walked nearer to the fire. He pressed his hand against it, then jumped back, as if burned. He stared at his hand, then at James in wonder. "I…I used to be something else." Sirius said, his eyes unfocused. "I used to be able to turn _into_ something else." He stared into the fire for a moment before saying, slowly, "I used to turn into a dog. James…he turned into a stag. Lupin was a werewolf. Peter was a rat."

James stared at Sirius for a second. "Who's Lupin? Who's Peter?" but even as he said it, he had a sudden vision of a man with a sad smile in shabby robes, and a small man with shifty eyes. Lupin and Peter. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettegrew.

Charlie's mouth was open in amazement. He had remembered as well. Harry felt his stomach do a familiar lurch. What was happening to them? Was this real? Could it possibly be real, or was it all just in his head?

Another memory, one of Dumbledore. "Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry, but why on Earth should that mean it's not real?"

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	7. Between the Times

**I don't own Harry. Nope.**

_According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than anything else. Order of the Phoenix_

James was dreaming. That must be it. Everything up to this point he'd taken in stride, but now memories that were definitely not his were coming thick and fast, fighting for room as they invaded his brain. Images of people he'd never seen in his life and yet felt like he'd known them forever.

He sat down on an old, patched leather chair close to the fireplace. His head rested in his hands. James felt like he was going insane. He felt like he didn't belong here, that he should get out. He felt like this was the first place he had ever truly belonged.

These emotions all conflicted with each other and James suddenly had the strong urge to scream. He felt like he was going to be sick. He was ecstatic, wonderfully happy. What was happening to him?

Charlie suddenly collapsed into the armchair across from him, groaning. James looked up. "Ron...Charlie..." which one was he? Which one was correct?

Molly knelt in front of Charlie, her fingers lacing through his. She wasn't affected by this room as much as James and Charlie were.

Sirius was talking to Nearly Headless Nick, and his words floated towards James in pieces as more memories came. He was trying to finish homework... He was watching two red-headed boys let off fireworks...memories from another lifetime. From a thousand years ago. From a time of magic.

The images were coming in trickles now. He was seeing a man in the fire...he looked like Sirius. He was looking out the window, watching as smoke curled out of a small chimney. Always, he was accompanied by these people, by Ron and Hermione. Or were they Charlie and Molly?

Times were getting confused. James felt like he had to stop. Like he'd suffocate if he didn't pull himself out of these now. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on nothingness. Thinking about nothing. Empting his mind until it displayed total darkness.

Sirius's words were finally making sense, coming in slowly like a badly tuned radio. "Another room...get out of here...magic...wands..." disjointed words.

Opening his eyes, James saw that Charlie was sitting quite still, his breathing ragged as he too tried to wrench himself away from the powerful, consuming, magical memories of the past. Seeing James looking at him, Charlie widened his eyes, raising an eyebrow as he struggled to control his breathing. James shook his head. He had no answer for his friend's mute question. He didn't know what was happening to them.

Nick was by his side, a frozen hand falling through his elbow. James stood up, shuddering from the unexpected cold. "Now, I think that it is time."

"For what?" Molly echoed what James had been thinking. The ghost only smiled in reply, floating easily through the brick wall.

James looked around at his friends. Charlie hoisted himself to his feet, still looking confused. Molly looked anxious, Sirius excited. "So...forward or home?"

"We should finish this." Sirius looked excited, his black eyes reflecting the light from the afternoon sun. "We _need_ to finish this. Or at least you do."

James looked around. Molly nodded, though she still looked wary. Charlie didn't say anything, but led the way to the hole that that they come through, catching up with Nick.

They walked down staircases, through a maze of corridors. James was silent, trying to beat back the visions that were threatening to engulf his brain. He was also trying to take in as much of the school as possible. It was in remarkable condition, considering it had been abandoned for a thousand years. Portraits still hung on some of the walls and (was this a trick of the light?) they were moving, pointing when they caught sight of James, sidling in and out of other frames, trying to spread the news.

Walking past a particular door, Hermione gasped, and ran to it, peering inside to see the hundreds of books that were stacked there. "I know this place!" She squealed, her hand trying the doorknob to find that it was locked. She turned to the boys, her face a picture of excitement. "I used to come here all the time...all the time!" She tried again to open the door, again finding it was locked.

Nick cleared his throat. "Try the wand." He indicated the forgotten white wand that Hermione held loosely in her hand. She looked at the wand, at Nick, at the door, and back to the wand. Taking a deep breath, she focused the wand on the door handle and said loudly, confidently, "Alohomora."

A lock clicked and the door swung neatly open. Molly stepped inside, taking in a deep breath. She turned back to James and he could see it in her eyes. The library was doing for her what the Quidditch Pitch and the Common Room had done for Charlie and James. "I'll be just a minute!" She said, before scurrying into the depths of the room, looting through the bookshelves.

James glanced at Charlie, who shrugged, not understanding the behavior either. Turning back to the door, James saw Molly hurrying back, breathless, carrying a thick book.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, trying to get a look at the cover.

Molly clutched the book to her chest. "I think it will help us a lot. It's called _Hogwarts, a History_."

James whistled his approval, "How'd you know where it was?"

Molly closed the door slowly behind her, casting the room one last, longing glance. "I just knew. I think that that girl, Hermione...she used to spend a lot of time in there." Molly was already opening the book, starting to read it even as they began walking.

Sirius asked Nick again, "Where are we going?"

"Nearly there!" Nick called, turning yet another corner. James was sure that if he was left alone he wouldn't be able to find his way out of the enormous school.

Two gargoyles stood at the end of a hall, in front of a large black door. Nick stepped forward, "I know this password." he explained to the group as he said, easily, "Chocolate Frogs." The gargoyles immeditly sprang to life and jumped aside. James noticed that one of them had only one wing. He barely had time to marvel at these to creatures, though, because Charlie was pulling him onto a steep, twisting staircase that moved automatically until it came to a smooth stop in front of another large door.

"Go on." Nick said, already starting to float down. "He's been waiting."

The door creaked open. James instictively pressed closer to Charlie, Molly, and Sirius. A soft, old, despretly familiar voice called to him. "Come in, Harry."

**SOrry for not updating sooner.**

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	8. The Headmaster's Office

**I own it not.**

_The truth. It is a beautoful and terrible thing, and therefore should be treated with great caution. **Albus Dumbledore**_

James jumped only slightly at the voice, and then glanced around the room. It was in even better condition than the rest of the school with most of the room entirely intact, as though it had been left alone for the past thousand years. Small, fragile-looking instruments stood on delicate-looking table, spinning and making soft whistling noises. In the corner was a large cabinet, in another a forgotten bird's perch. Stairs led up to another landing and on all of the walls were portraits.

But there was no one else in the room. Just James, Molly, Charlie, and Sirius. Yet James was sure he'd heard it...and that voice so...right, so achingly familiar it seemed to reach down to his bones, striking an old, long-forgotten cord, making him feel both exited and anxious, safe and calm.

"Hello, Harry." It was all James could do not to jump. He felt Charlie's arm on his shoulder, noticed Molly slipping her hand into Charlie's, saw Sirius's body tense. And there still was no one in the room.

And then James saw it. A picture, bigger than the rest, directly behind a large oak desk in the middle of the floor. In it was a man, an old man with a long white beard, a crooked nose on which was perched half-moon spectacles and blue eyes. Twinkling blue eyes that seemed to pierce through James' skin and see inside his soul. The man was smiling, looking happy and...proud. "I knew you'd get here, eventually, though you took rather longer than I'd hoped. And of course, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger came along for the ride." The old man inclined his head to Charlie and Molly. "And Sirius too. Always the protector." James heard Sirius make a noise in the back of his throat but he didn't answer.

At last, James found his tongue. "I think you've got it wrong. Everyone's got it wrong, sir. I'm not Harry Potter. I didn't do all these great things. I didn't save the world from a dark lord. I'm not even magical."

The man sighed, and something clicked in James' head. This was, it had to be, Dumbledore. The same Dumbledore that was buried in that beautiful white tomb. The tomb that had started all of this. The Dumbledore who had been Headmaster in the time of the great Harry Potter.

"Ah, Harry, you never did see yourself as special. But the fact that you _know_ all of these things proves that you are Harry, you see?"

James didn't see, of course, and he glanced at Charlie and Molly for help. As he turned his head, he was hit with another wave of memories, powerful memories like the ones by the tomb. He closed his eyes, and he was a young boy, covered in blood, showing Dumbledore the sword. No, he was fourteen, a boy had just died, and he was hurt, a bird standing on his knee. Now he was seventeen, laying a wand on the desk in front of a portrait after a very long day.

"Harry, you okay?" Charlie knelt next to James. He had doubled over from the pain of the memories. It took both boys a second to realize what Charlie had just called him. James looked at his red-headed friend. Charlie, who had been his best friend since they were children, who had helped him so many times, who was identical to this person, Ron. Ron, who had died in a war. Charlie had called his Harry.

And that was the first time that James thought there might be a possibility that all of this was true. Maybe he was Harry, not just a look-alike or a descendent but the real Harry, the great person who had lived a thousand years ago.

Dumbledore smiled at him, his eyes knowing. James looked around the room again and realized that he knew it. Not some vague recognition that he'd been here before. He knew this place. Over there was where he'd first been sucked into a Pensive. There was where Fawks the Phoenix had perched. There was where he (or was it Harry?) learned that he would have to defeat the Dark Lord in order to live.

"What's that?" Sirius pointed to an old hat. More patches than anything, the hat stood frayed and insignificant in comparison to the other things in the room, yet it held its own special brand of magic.

James found himself talking at the same time as Dumbledore and Molly. "It's the Sorting Hat."

Charlie looked up in surprise, then said, slowly. "I wonder if it still works." James caught the look that Charlie was sending him and knew what it meant. The Sorting Hat, he now remembered, could look inside a person's head, tell them who they were, what they could become. Maybe the hat...

"Try it on." Dumbledore offered happily, his long-fingered hands crossing in front of him. "It's getting talkative nowadays, upset, you see. Doesn't have anyone to try it on."

James gulped, again looking at his friends for support. All three nodded encouragingly back at him, and James knew that he had to do it. He had to see, even though he thought he knew...but for sure. He had to know for sure.

Slipping the hat over his head, James found that it fell past his glasses down to his nose. Biting his lip, he waited for something to happen, like when he's been sorted into Gryffindor. Only it wasn't him. It was Harry.

Was there any difference between James and Harry now?

"No."

It was the hat. The small, sly-sounding voice echoed right in his head, saying words only he could hear. "And there never was. You, James, were always Harry Potter. Since the day you were born. You just never knew it. Yes, your friends too. You were born for this, Harry. Like you were a thousand years ago. I wish you luck on your mission."

What mission? What was the hat talking about?

"You know what I mean, Harry. You've always known."

What? James tried to prod the hat for more information, but it was like a switch had been turned off. The hat said nothing else. As James took it off his head, and the office came back into view, he realized two things.

He was no longer James. Just as Charlie was no longer Charlie, nor Molly , nor Sirius. Possibly, he had never been James. He was Harry Potter. He had a job to do.

He had to recreate Magic.

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	9. The Next Battle

**I don't own them.**

_It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well. Dumbledore _

His first instinct was to refuse. "I can't...I can't do this." He looked up at the portrait, who was still calmly watching, fingertips touching as he looked down on him. "There's just no way. It's too much for me to do. I can't re-create magic!"

Charlie was looking at him, a look of astonishment on his face that was washed away in a moment of realization. "Oh...like before?"

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, looking bewildered. "What about re-creating magic? We just found it, we didn't create it."

Molly explained to him as quickly as she could, her eyes alive with excitement. "James...Harry?" she glanced at her friend, unsure of which name, "James." He said firmly. He liked James. "Well, James is Harry Potter re-created, like I'm Hermione and Charlie's Ron. So James has a mission, like he had before, he has to bring magic back into the world." She looked at James. "It shouldn't be that difficult."

"Not that difficult?" James felt his mouth slide open. How could she say that? Of course it would be difficult! He didn't know the first thing about magic.

Molly sighed patiently before saying, slowly, "You don't have to do it alone this time, Harry ― James ―" she sighed again, trying to keep the names straight.

"I think they can be used interchangeably now, Ms. Granger." The Professor's portrait said, not unkindly. Molly nodded, not taken aback in the least at being called 'Granger'.

"I just mean that last time Harry had to do it alone, didn't he? Because of the prophesy."

James looked at her. What prophesy? But even as he said it a memory came to him, as easily as if it were his own. _A woman, or the ghost of a woman, revolving slowly above a pool of liquid 'neither can live while the other survives.' The prophesy that had sent him on the hunt for Horcruxes, the one that said that Harry, and only Harry, could defeat the Dark Lord._

Charlie spoke then, voicing the question he was about to ask, "Yeah, but there's still the problem of us not knowing any magic. How can we teach what we don't know?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "C'mon _Ronald_." She said teasingly. "Think! You must remember Transfiguration, Potions, Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

James looked at her, "How do you remember so much? I mean...now that you said them I remember, but you thought of them by yourself."

And Molly smiled, "Maybe I just paid more attention in class than you guys did." James had to nod at that. If Hermione was anything like Molly ― and from Harry's memories he knew that she was ― she probably did pay much more attention to her lessons than James or Charlie did.

Sirius addressed the portrait again, his dark eyes agitated as he fingered the short wand. "But how? Are people magical still? And are we supposed to teach them? What about wands? How do we get a lot of people to know about this?"

The portrait smiled, gesturing at the office, at the building and its grounds. "You have this school. With magic it shouldn't take that long to repair, and it'll give you good practice. I have a feeling that even the great Harry Potter has gotten rusty after a millennia of no magic. Afterwords, you recruit. There are those, who, like you, find their magic just by walking into the school. I think you'll find that all of the Weasleys ― that is, those in Charlie's family ― will have a very strong connection to magic, along with those from the old DA. Others you will have to teach."

James opened his mouth for another question but was cut off. "I think you will find that by getting together those with strong magical tendencies, you will find enough people to fill positions at this school."

Again, James opened his mouth and again he was cut off. "As for wands...there are magical creatures still thriving in the world, though more hidden then they were a thousand years ago. Many you'll find around this school. I think you will find that in times of need, Goblins and even house-elves have the natural talent for making wands."

James, finally finding a place to talk, said. "How do we find everyone? The people who aren't from the memories but still have magic? How will we know who to recruit for students?"

Dumbledore regarded them for a moment. "There is a book, just over there...yes, the big one near the shelf. It holds...or at least held...a registration of all people with any magic in their blood living in England...the old England, that is. You might find it useful."

Molly was already pouring over the pages, flipping through them eagerly. James glanced at it, marveling at how many people there were.

Dumbledore regarded them, "This is a mighty task. The four of you will be the new founders of this school. You will face challenges...many challenges. But I think you will find being in Hogwarts a very...interesting experience. I doubt any of you have gained back all your memories of your past days here, and my only advice is to take them as they come. Some of them you may not like."

This reminded James of something he was wanted to ask. Something very, very important. "Sir, does this mean, now that we're kind of repeating history...does this mean that Charlie has to die?" he looked over at his red-headed friend, his throat going dry at the thought of losing him...again.

Dumbledore smiled. "Nothing is set in stone, my dear boy. You four will have a chance to correct the mistakes of the past and to rewrite the future. We must not wallow in the sins of yesterday, but battle on, for, as they say, tomorrow is another day."

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	10. A New Adventure

_**I don't own them**_

_"And now Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."__** Dumbledore**_

"So what are you going to do?"

James sat on the broken front steps of the castle, watching as Molly and Sirius tried to repair the castle. Molly was very good, getting the hang of the spells after only a couple of uses. Sirius was more interested in turning the huge boulders into white canaries.

Charlie sat next to him. On his lap were several books Molly said she could_ never_ leave in the library. The fattest by far was _Hogwarts, A History,_ but there were also other large books, _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ and a biography about Harry Potter himself. Ron had this last one open and was looking at a picture of a red-headed family identical to his own. More proof, as if it were necessary at this point, that magic was, at last, being re-incarnated.

"About what?" James idly twirled the wand between his fingers, surprised at how powerful it felt. But it still didn't feel _right_, as if the wand wasn't made for him. Again, a small voice in the back of his head muttered, _the wand chooses the wizard, Harry. _

Charlie rolled his eyes, the action just visible in the purple-pink lights of the sunset. "About magic. About Hogwarts and all that. You're going to do it, right?"

James shrugged, pointing the wand at a small, scuttling creature, a word coming unbidden to his lips. _Engorgio!_ He muttered, watching with fascination as the thing grew to a spider the size of a tennis ball.

"Oy!" Charlie shouted, leaping to his feet to get away from the bug. In his haste, he dropped the books and tripped over his own feet, sending him tumbling down the steps.

James laughed, putting the spider right and looking at his friend. "Smooth." He laughed, watching Ron pick himself up.

"You better not be hurting my books!" Molly called from ten yards behind, where she was trying to resurrect the huge front doors.

Charlie picked up the books carefully, grumbling to himself. He sat down next to James once again, resuming his spot in the book. "You never answered my question." He reminded James, turning the page.

"Yeah, I'll do it." James said slowly. He knew he would. He had to. If even a fraction of what had been the magical world was restored, it could be the most powerful thing on any planet. "But it'll be hard. I don't even know where to begin."

"I was thinking about that." Charlie had abandoned the book and was now staring at the Quidditch Pitch. "I figure we should start with seeing if any of the teachers are back...McGonagal and Lupin and them. They'll help a lot if they are."

James found a flaw in this. "Yeah, but they could be our age, like Sirius." He glanced over at the boy who had been Harry's godfather. Sirius had abandoned his rock-changing to help Molly. The front doors were beautiful.

"I also think we should get my family in on it. Alex and Bobby ― they're Fred and George, right? ― you can't keep anything from them. But just so you know, there's no way you're marrying my sister."

"Mmm-hmm." Harry said, though he secretly thought that it would be very difficult to stop this from happening.

Molly came over to them, looking tired but more excited than ever. "If that door is any indication, the school will take a little while."

"Yeah..." James looked past her at the ruins of Hogwarts. It was hard to see in the quickly-fading light. He didn't want to leave the school but he stood up, calling for Sirius. They would be back.

They had to be.

**Okay guys, I know it's short but hear me out. It's the last chapter, but only because the rest of the story will be about recruiting and finding out things and not about the actual school. We just put it up – it's called The Second Age Begins.**

**And please review.**


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